What Tomorrow Brings
by Sodapop CurtisDX
Summary: Ponboy can always count on his family and the gang to help him out. But what will tomorrow bring? What happens when things go terribly wrong? My prequel to The Outsiders. COMPLETE! No slash. Please R&R! My first Outsiders fic.
1. Chapter One

1**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I only own the plot, and even then, that's not all too much.**

**I got the idea for this fic when I was staying at the Plaza on a visit to New York. I was reading some interviews with the actors on the computer and then I read that all the stars of "The Outsiders" had stayed at the Plaza in the 80's, so I got really excited. Then I stared writing so I could wind down enough to go to bed, and this kinda came from that. Hope you like it. PLEASE REVIEW!**

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"Ponyboy. Hey, Pony, get up." I opened my eyes slowly, blinking in the bright sunlight that was poring in through the open window. "C'mon, Pony. Get up." I blinked and turned over. What I saw made me want to laugh. My second eldest brother, Sodapop, was standing over me, looking like he had just been hit by a truck. (Soda looks like that every morning.) His hair was a mess and his eyes were kinda puffy and red. He had on his blue DX shirt–half buttoned–and teddy bear printed boxers. _Teddy bears_. Sodapop was truly one of a kind.

"Huh?" I blinked again and yawned. "Can't...too sleepy..." I muttered and closed my eyes again. Sodapop tried to wake me up a few more times, but I only rolled over and snuggled deeper under the blankets. I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be.

"Fine, but you'll be late for school." I snorted. Since when did _Sodapop_ care about being late for school? He was always talking about dropping out, but Mom wouldn't let him. He left, muttering about "lazy kids these days" and "lack of proper respect". I laughed.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis, you get out of that bed _right this instant_!" I opened my eyes and looked up from the safety of my warm bed to find my mom standing over me, hands on her hips. I groaned as she stripped the blankets off me. Glory, it was cold! "Get up, or you'll be late for school." She said sternly, and I instantly obeyed. Reluctantly, I tore myself from the warm cocoon of pillows and blankets. Mom stayed until she was sure I was up and out of bed. "Get dressed, Pony!"

"Yes, ma'am." I said and walked over to my dresser. I yanked out a pair of ancient jeans that used to be Soda's and a pair of clean socks. My family isn't exactly rich (far from it), so I get quite a few hand-me-downs.

"Hurry up, Ponyboy!" I heard my mom call from the kitchen, and I doubled my speed. I yanked on my favorite green t-shirt, grabbed my shoes, and headed for the bathroom.

"'Mornin', sleepy-head." Dad said as I walked into the kitchen. He grinned at me and I felt myself returning the grin. He and Soda were alike in a lot of ways, except in looks, of course. They both had those contagious grins, kinda reckless like. My family's kind of funny that way. Sodapop looks just like my mom, only he has my dad's eyes. Soda is real handsome–handsomer than anyone else I've ever known. He's got dark-gold hair that turns wheat-gold in the summer

and dark brown eyes–reckless and dancing and always lively. But even though he's like my dad, Sodapop is one-of-a-kind. He can get drunk dancing or drag racing without touching a single drop of alcohol. He gets drunk on just plain living. He's a real good listener, too.

"Think you took long enough, Ponyboy?" My eldest brother, Darry asked me.

"Just long enough for you to finish up on your beauty sleep, Super-dope. You really needed it." I shot back, using one of Steve's favorite nicknames for him. I kinda felt bad when I said that, I mean, Darry and I get along really good, but I'm kind of a smart-aleck sometimes. Dad says it's from reading so much. Darry's nineteen and he just left highschool. He wants to go to college. He probably will, too, what with the athletic scholarship he got and all. He's real popular. He was captain of the football team at school and even got voted Boy of the Year. Darry looks just like my dad–dark-brown hair that kind of kicks out in the front with a cow-lick in the back. His eyes are all his own, though. They're pale blue-green, unlike my dad's brown ones. Him and Dad have a real good time joking around and just having fun. Then Dad'll slap Darry on the back and tell him he's a regular "chip off the block". Whatever _that _means. Darry's pretty handsome, too. Not Sodapop-handsome, just handsome. He's got that real clean-cut look. He's about six-foot-two and really muscular.. I always try to get him on our team when we play footballDarry's good.

I don't really look like any one person in my family, at least not to me. I have light brown-reddish hair and grey-green eyes. Darry's always saying they're green–just to annoy me–but I'm sticking with grey. I don't like a lot of guys with green eyes. I wish I was as handsome as Sodapop, but I guess my own looks aren't son bad either. Besides, it's not like I could change them, even if I wanted to, so I guess I have to be content with what I have.

"That's enough, boys. Pony, Soda, you to get ready for school. Go on!" Mom whisked my plate away just as I was about to pick up a piece of egg. Mom started to clean the dirty breakfast dishes and Darry got up to help. "And Sodapop, I don't wanna hear a single thing about you and Steve foolin' around anymore, you hear?" (Soda had gotten a week's worth of detention with his friend Steve the other day for stealing their English teacher's wig.) Soda grinned cheekily and stuffed a bit of scrambled egg into his mouth.

"Shoot, Mom. We ain't that bad. We did that guy a favor. His wig looked so fake–we just couldn't stand to hear him as the butt of bald-jokes and such. Steve and I felt it our duty as good citizens, and students, to help the poor guy out is all. It was what you might call an act of charity." I nearly choked on the chocolate milk I had been drinking and Dad winked at me. I tried, unsuccessfully, to wink back.

"Oh..." Mom searched for the right word, trying to hold back a smile. "You boys just get off to school. Go on, and behave!" Me and Soda walked out the door and down the front steps.

"You want a ride, Ponyboy?" Sodapop asked as he headed for Steve's car. I glanced at Steve. He doesn't really like it when I hang out with him and Soda. He thinks I'm just a tag-along kid.

"Nah, I'm gonna walk with Johnny." Johnny Cade was my best buddy, besides Sodapop. He was a member of our gang and was youngest next to me. Johnny had dark tanned skin and black hair with a lot of grease in it that fell in shaggy bangs over his forehead. He had big black eyes that were scared and suspicious and gentle, too. Just picture a little lost puppy that's been kicked too many times and you have Johnny Cade. Johnny had it real rough at home, what with his dad always beating him and his mother not caring for anything but herself. We all tried to make it up to him by being the best buddies we could be, but I know all Johnny really wanted was for his parents to finally care about him. Johnny was everybody's little brother. He was a real good listener, too.

"'Kay." Soda said as he jumped into the car with Steve. I smiled to myself as the car pulled into the street at break-neck speed. Soda always did like drag races. I liked them too, come o think of it.

I met Johnny in front of the vacant lot by our house. It was a favorite grease hangout. We were all greasers in our gang. In my town, there are two sides: East and West. The Socs live in the West side. It's kind of hard to spell and I'm not sure if I spelled it right. The West-side Socs–the rich kids. Socs like to throw beer-blasts and jump greasers. The East side is home to us greasers. We're poorer than the Socs and the middle-class and kind of wilder, too. We don't throw beer-blasts or wreck houses like the Socs. Greasers are more like hoods. We drive old souped-up cars and rob drug stores and hold gang fights every once in a while. Not that Soda or me or Darry ever do anything like that. Mom would skin us if we ever got into that kind of trouble. Our gang's pretty good; I mean, we do steal stuff and even I''ve gotten into a few fights before, but we're pretty good, for the most part. I'm not saying that either greasers or Socs are better. I mean, there's good greasers and bad greasers and I'm sure it's the same way with the Socs. I couldn't say for sure, 'cause I don't know many Socs. Socs hate greasers and we have to be careful not to be alone 'cause we might get jumped. I'm not exactly sure why we hate each other so muchexcept for a difference in money. It all seems kind of pointless to me.

**I'm really sorry for such a short chapter. The next one will be much longer. Please tell me what you think and if I have any spelling mistakes. Thanks for reading. Next chapter coming soon.**


	2. Chapter Two

1**Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm a greaser–dirt poor. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed:**

**Parixs: Here's my update. Glad you like it so far. :)**

**Merryw: Wow! You really think it was Hinton-like? Thanks! **

**Littlespongecake: I like 'em, too! Thanks a lot for reviewing.**

**BlackLightningDX:** **It's all for you, man. We gotta do it for Johnny! Lol.** **I am gettin' those Teddy Bear boxers...**

**Thanks again for reviewing. It is always appreciated. Flames make me laugh, but I prefer kind reviews. (I always appreciate friendly criticism.) I just ask one thing, if you're gonna flame me, please put why my story sucks or whatever you're flaming about. Pointless flames are just annoying...**

**By the way, I'm sorry if some of the endings to chapters don't seem like endings. I just write what I can, when I can and wherever I have to stop is the end of a chapter. (Within reason, of course.) Hope no one minded. Please R&R!**

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Johnny and I walked most of the way to school in silence. We're quiet like that. "Hey, Pony? Watcha doin' after school?" Johnny asked me. I thought for a minute. I usually have to go home and do my homework right away, but then I can do whatever I want. (Within reason, of course.)

Mom and Dad are pretty good like that, as long as I do good in school and all. They like to know who I'm with and stuff, too. I have to be home by 9:30-10:00 on school nights.

"Hey, greasers. What's glidin'?"

"Hey, Two-Bit!" I said brightly. Two-Bit Matthews was another one of our gang–the oldest, next to Darry. He's real funny. That's how he got his name, because he always has to put his two-bit's in. Two-Bit was always smarting off to cops, teachers, everyone. The way he told me was, he just had to brighten up their dull lives. He was pretty light-fingered, too, if you know what I mean. Just about all the shopkeepers in our neighborhood knew better than to let Two-Bit around anything that wasn't nailed down. He just couldn't help it if he had a "fondness" for other people's things. (That's what he told me.)

"So, what would my fellow hoods be doing on such a fine day as this?" Two-Bit asked, whistling.

"Just goin' to school." Johnny said quietly. Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow.

"Shoot, kid. Doesn't anyone do anything exciting anymore?" I shrugged and Johnny blushed. Two-Bit wasn't paying attention. "I was thinkin' o' doing something fun, for once." I snorted. That was one thing Two-Bit lacked, _fun. _"You know, flood some toilets, break some windows, that kinda thing." Two-Bit was always trying new ways to amuse himself, so I couldn't possibly understand why he liked _school_, of all things. But, as Two-Bit put it, he "went for kicks". I couldn't understand that either. Two-Bit's like that.

We came up to the school and Two-Bit jumped in front of us. "Gentlemen, here I presenteth unto you, this beautiful institution of finer learning–no it is not the prison–I giveth to you, drum roll. Pony, if you will..." I trilled my tongue like a drum. "...Will Rogers High School! (Originally called Two-Bit's School of the Fine Arts.)" Johnny and I fell about laughing.

"What kinda fine arts?"

"The art of not-getting-caught-while-doing-things-you're-not-supposed-to-do, of course." Two-Bit rolled his eyes, as though we should've known what kind of fine arts they would tach at a school named after him. I smiled. We entered the school building and walked around, talking to all the guys we knew before the first bell rang. I was kinda sad to have to go to class. I mean, school is okay, i guess. But, the problem is, all my buddies are in different classes than me. I got put into this advanced class 'cause I'm supposed to be smart. Unfortunately, there's a lot of Socs in those classes, and just about no greasers. I said bye to Two-Bit and Johnny and started off for my first class–French.

French was okay, but it had a lot of Soc girls in it. They didn't think to much of me–a greaser, even if I was smart. I took my usual seat in the back of the room, even though I can't really see the board from there. I want to learn and all, but I do have a reputation as a greaser to protect. Only Soc-Geeks sat in front. "Bonjour, mes eleves!"

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Nameth." Everyday was the same routine in French class and we all had it down pretty well. (Walk in. Greet the teacher. Sit down. Greet the teacher. Do bell work. Listen to announcements, and then whatever was planned for that day.) There was the usual clatter of pens and notebooks being taken out of book-bags as everyone began the "Question du Jour." (Question of the day.)

"Pssst! Ponyboy Curtis!" I looked up to see who was calling me. It was Shannon Sheldon–a pretty Soc girl that used to hang around the DX station Soda works at part-time. Shannon tossed me a piece of neatly-folded paper and I looked at it, surprised to find my name printed neatly on the top fold. The only notes I had ever been passed in that class were threats from some pretty nasty Soc guys. I opened it. The letter was written in a neat cursive handwriting that had to be a girl's, it read:

_Ponyboy Curtis, _

_I just wanted you to know that I'm having a party at my house on Saturday, and you're invited. Oh, and please don't tell anyone I invited you. My address is: 903 Yew Ave. (The West Side, of course!)_

_Sincerely, _

_Shannon Sheldon._

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**Okay, I'm gonna leave off here beacuase I have to go now. Next update soon. By the way, I need a beta reader, if anyone's interested...**

**Till next time!**

–**Sodapop Curtis DX **


	3. Chapter Three

1**Disclaimer: The only person who can claim anything hereexcept the plot–is S. E. Hinton. **

**Replies:**

**myhubbyisob: Thanks for reviewing! You guessed right. Lol.**

**Nelleyram: Thanks! Thanks for pointing out the spelling mistakes, too. I always appreciate that. Sally would've had a heart-attack...**

**BlacklightingDX: We already talked about it in French class. Lol. How'd the English test go? DO IT FOR JOHNNY, MAN!**

**Tofucerdan: I didn't really find your review negative. As I've said before, I always appreciate helpful criticism. I made some changes in the description. Hope it's better. Anyway, thanks for reviewing!**

**Merryw: Thanks, I appreciate it. I like that line, too. Lol. Kind of a bit of foreshadowing...**

**Dreamer for lyf: That quote came from something I did once...Lol! Thanks for reviewing.**

**Morino Wakaba: Thankee. I didn't take it seriously. It's kinda of all a big joke to me... Thanks for reviewing. **

**Martie21: Could you at least tell me why? How are they a disaster? I can only change things when you tell me what needs to be changed. As for respect, that book is my favorite book, and I never tried to be disrespectful to it in any way. This is my first fic. I'm kinda new to this, so please cut me some slack. Thanks for reviewing.**

**I made some changes to the first chapter. Hope you like 'em. By the Way, two people have commented on my descriptions of the characters. The descriptions are pretty much straight-from-the-book. I'm not complaining. I'm just explaining. Thanks to all of you for reviewing!**

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I looked up at Shannon, startled. After all, it wasn't everyday that a pretty Soc girl–like Shannon-invited some kid grease–like me–to a party.Shannon smiled at me, showing perfectly even, white teeth. I managed a weak grin and tried to look tuff. Boy, was she pretty! I had never noticed the way the light shone on her curly brown hair like that. She turned to one of her many friends and started giggling. I wasn't attention. I just kept thinking, "Shannon Sheldon invited me to a party...Shannon Sheldon–a Soc–invited me to a party...Shannon Sheldon..." I looked at the note again. "Don't tell anyone..." Gosh, How could I not tell anyone? I wanted to tell the world!

The rest of the day passed pretty quick. I kinda loused up in my work, though. All I could think about was Shannon Sheldon and her party. I was so deep in my dreamland that I walked right into the front door. "Nice one." Steve said, opening the door. I blushed.

"Hey, Pony! Get a sunburn or sumthin'?" I flushed even more.

"Aw, c'mon. Cut it out, guys..." I whined

"And they tell me to grow up." Two-Bit grumbled. I blushed even more and walked into the kitchen, setting the note carefully on the counter. Steve walked in, laughing at some joke of Two-Bit's.

"What's this, huh?...love note?" Steve smirked and started to open the letter.

"C'mon, give it back, Steve! It doesn't have nothing to do with you!" I rounded on Steve, trying anything to get the note back. Steve only laughed and held it above my head. Two-Bit had come in to the kitchen by then, and Steve started to read.

"Ponyboy Curtis...Awwww...look she puts hearts on the i's!" Steve laughed. I watched, horrified, as Steve continued to read the note out loud. I sure wished Sodapop was there. Soda would never let Steve do anything like this. "...please don't tell anyone I invited you. Sincerely, Shannon Sheldon. What's this girl think–you'll ruin her reputation or sumthin' by telling people she invited you? Dirty little Soc..." Steve started to cuss Shannon out and I snapped. I don't like it when guys talk that way about girls, especially nice girls like Shannon. He had gone too far this time.

"Don't you talk about Shannon that way! Just 'cause she's better than those greasy broads you pick up!" I expected Steve would slug me, in fact, I was ready for it. I wasn't ready for what he did do. Steve put the note down on the counter and stepped toward me.

"Ponyboy...I didn't mean it like that...you..." He spoke in a real soft voice I had never heard him use with me before–like he was talking to Johnny.

"Pony..." Two-Bit started, but I wouldn't let him finish. I had had enough.

"I don't care what either of y'all has to say!" I screamed.

"Ponyboy, listen..." Steve took another step toward me. I backed away.

"NO! I'm not listening!" I picked up an empty glass from the kitchen counter. Steve came closer. "Go AWAY!" I hurled the glass with all my might at Steve, not even thinking of the consequences if it hit him. It didn't. It smashed into the wall just as Darry walked in, nearly hitting his head. Darry blinked as the glass shattered into hundreds of pieces, showering him with debris. I fell back against the counter, having just realized what I had done.

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**Sorry this one's so short, but it's bedtime and I wanted to put this up. I'll just pick up where I left off next time. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter Four

1**Disclaimer: I still own nothing.**

**Hey guy's thanks so much for reviewing!**

**Goldengreaser: Thanks, The whole Shannon being Bob's sister was a last minute change I made. I was hoping no one thought it was stupid. Glad you like it.**

**Littlespongecake: I'm bringing Johnny in soon, don't worry. I'm trying to update as fast as possible. This is all pre-written in a notebook, so it's pretty easy to update fast. Thanks!**

**Mone: Thank you! I'm glad you like the plot and my writing style. That means a lot to me. **

**Merryw: Thanks for reviewing. Was that a good uh oh, or a bad uh oh?**

**Streetpanther: lol. Thanks.**

**BlacklightningDX: I take no offence by your pointing out I have a mistake. In fact, I appreciate it. "Do it for Johnny, man!" I still say you're a great writer...**

**TofuCerdan: No prob. Use the review space for whatever. Thanks for the constructive criticism. I did make more changes in the description of Darry. I'm sorry about that. I just wasn't thinking when I wrote it. Please tell me what you think about the changes and if there's anymore mistakes. By the way, I'm looking for a beta reader, if it wouldn't be too much trouble...Thanks for reviewing!**

**Pravda: I'm really sorry. I love Darry, too, and i just wasn't paying attention. I changed his description, if you'd like to look. If there's any more problems, please tell me. I did mainly take the descriptions from the book. No matter how hard I tried, it just always looked that way. You just can't top Hinton, I guess. Anyway, thanks a lot for reviewing. Hope the changes make it better.**

**Martie21: No problem. I understand. I have a tendency to write (and say) stuff like that all the time without thinking it through first. It usually get's me into trouble, too. Are there any more description besides Darry's that were messed up? I wanna change those too if there were. Thanks.**

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. Once again, please tell me if there are any mistakes in this fic. I really appreciate it. Here's the next chapter...**

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Darry looked at me, but somehow managed to hide his surprise. "You're gonna clean that up, you know." I blinked. That wasn't exactly what I had been expecting to hear. I mean, what would you expect someone to say to you if they had just barley missed being hit in the head with a glass you had thrown? Two-Bit backed out of the room with Steve. I must have scared them with my angry outburst. Heck, I kind of scared myself. "Ponyboy..." Darry started to say something, but was interrupted by Soda slamming the front door–like he always did.

"I'm home!" He called from the living room. I heard the usual clatter as he slammed the door and kicked off his shoes. Sodapop came running into the kitchen, a big grin on his face. "Hey, what's goin' on?" He asked, looking confused. His eyes traveled from me to Darry to the shards of broken glass littering the floor and then back to me again."What happened?"

"Pony dropped a glass." Darry said simply. Soda grinned again.

"Well, if that's all..." Soda looked at Darry. "I got somethin' to tell ya, but not in front of the kid." I made a face.

"Shoot, Soda, I ain't no kid!" Sodapop just smiled and shrugged.

"Yeah, but you've got cleaning to do, little man–before Mom gets home." Darry said, smiling slyly at me. Big brothers.

"Yeah, yeah..." I grumbled, turning to get the broom that Mom always kept next to the fridge–just in case one of us boys made a mess or something. Soda bounced out of the kitchen and Darry turned to follow, but he stopped right before he left the kitchen and gave me one of those "we'll-talk-about-this-later" looks that I've gotten from Mom so many times. He left and I turned back to my cleaning.

"Hey, Pony?" I looked up from the book I was bending over to see Soda standing in the doorway. "Come on in. I just gotta read this book for English. I..." I trailed off and Soda cocked an eyebrow.

"What's up with this?" Sodapop handed me a piece of folded paper–Shannon's note. I shrugged. "This girl, she's a Soc, right?" I nodded, not knowing what else to say. "You goin'?"

It took me a second to realize that Soda was talking about the party. "I don't know. I guess I might." Soda gave me this real funny look. It was the same kinda look Steve had given me earlier, and Darry.

"Ponyboy, I don't really know if you should go..." He started. I was surprised. It wasn't like Soda to talk like that. I mean, usually he'd just say something like, "Have fun." or, "Good luck, kid." and wink at me. I didn't get it. Why wasn't anybody happy for me? Why did they have so much against Shannon, just because she was a Soc?

"Look, I'm going to the party, Soda. Why is everybody so against me going?" Soda just sighed, then smiled.

"Have fun." And he walked out of my room, leaving me very confused. Why shouldn't i go to the party? 'Shannon invited me, and everyone's just going to have to learn how to accept that.' I thought. I wish now that I had listened to them. I wish I could go back, and do it all over again–the right way.

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**Hey guys, sorry the chapter's so short, but it's bedtime–again. Hopefully the next chapter will be up tomorrow. Please REVIEW! Thanks.**


	5. Chapter Five

1**Disclaimer: I still own nothing. No, wait, I own Shannon. YAY!**

**Hey guys, sorry for the delay in updates, but I was stuck–majorly. Anywho, here's the new chapter. It's not all too great, but it's the best I could come up with. The last line for the last chapter was really hard to live up to. Lol. Hope you guys like it...**

**Oh, by the way, I can't do responses this time cause it's all in my inbox and my email thingy is busted. Thanks to all who reviewed! It was greatly appreciated.**

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"Hey, Pony?" I groaned and closed the book, looking up to see Darry standing in the doorway. I knew he'd be coming to talk with me sooner or later.

"Yeah." It was more of a statement than a question. We both knew what he was doing here. Darry sat down on the edge of my bed.

"Look, Pony, I don't wanna lecture you..."

"Yeah, but you are. Look, Darry, this is a big thing for me. I mean, I'm not really all that interested in girls yet, but it's kinda nice to get attention from one, and a nice one at that. You dig?" I hoped Darry would understand. I would've hated for something like this to come between us.

"I get it, Ponyboy...Have fun, okay?" I smiled and jumped on the bed, knocking him over. I was so glad that he'd understood. Darry and I rarely ever fight,and this just seemed like a stupid thing to fight about, anyway. The front door closed loudly and Mom called from the hall. Dad wasn't far behind her.

"Boys! We brought dinner!" Darry and I jumped from the bed so fast, you'd have thought it had caught fire or something. Soda thundered sown the hallway, slipping in his stocking feet. He hates shoes.

"What did ya bring?" He asked, stopping to catch his breath.

"Fried chicken, beans, potatoes, and corn bread." Mom said, looking through the bag. Soda and darry and me grinned. We love chicken.

O O O

"So, what'd your folks say about the party?" I glanced sharply at Johnny.

"How'd you know about that?" I didn't remember telling him anything about it.

"Ran in to Two-bit last night..." Johnny trailed off. He never was one to talk much.

"Oh. They said it was okay, long as Darry drove me." Johnny and I were walking to school again. I wished we could have driven that morning, because it was kind of chilly and my sweatshirt wasn't really helping to keep me warm, but my only choice would have been to go with Soda and Steve and I didn't really fancy seeing Steve again for a while. We walked in silence for a little, both just trying to keep warm, until a grey Mustang pulled up next to us. I jumped onto the sidewalk to avoid being hit, and some Soc guy stuck his head out. "Greaser!" He threw a cigarette at me and the car zoomed off, down the street. The cigarette hit my face and if you don't think that hurt, you're crazy.

"Pony, you okay?" Johnny put out the cigarette with the heel of his tennis shoe and stopped to looked at my face. I rubbed the spot where it had hit me gingerly, stopping when it started to burn my skin. The blasted thing had been lit! "What were the odds that the lit end hit you, right in the face? I swear, Ponyboy you got the worst luck sometimes." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed to me. I wiped a few tears from my eyes and touched the burn on my cheek again. "You know, it only makes it worse if you keep messing with it like that."

"I know. I know. It just hurts, is all." I sniffled a bit and wiped a tear from my face, not wanting Johnny to see me cry. It just didn't seem like something to cry about, especially not to Johnny. He took it worse than any of us from his folks and never let out a single tear. A little cigarette burn was nothing compared to what Johnny had.

"I ain't gonna make fun of you for cryin', Ponyboy." Johnny said softly. I swiped another tear from my face and turned away.

"I'm okay. It just doesn't make you feel too hot, you know?" Johnny nodded solemnly. He knew better than anybody. "Listen, Soda invited me to the movies tonight with him an' Steve. You wanna come?"

"Yeah, sure. Think anybody'll mind?"

"Nah. Besides, I don't wanna go alone. Steve'll be there and you know how him and Soda get sometimes..." Johnny smiled.

"Yeah." And that was it. We spent the rest of the walk in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. I wished Johnny was coming to that party with me the next day. Spending an hour or so with a bunch of Socs wasn't exactly my idea of fun. It would have been good to have a buddy, but Johnny wasn't invited. Johnny was scared of Socs anyway.

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**Hey, guys. Sorry the chapter's so short, but I only have fifteen minutes on the computer right now. The next update should be like tomorrow. I'm gonna try and write at school. Once again, sorry for it being so short. Hope you enjoy.**

**Sincerely,**

**Sodapop Curtis DX**


	6. Chapter Six

1"Hello, students."

"Good morning, Mrs. Smarking." I reached into my book bag and pulled out my history notebook and a ballpoint pen. There was a lot of giggling from the girls in the front and a note landed on my desk. I smiled to myself and carefully slipped it into my book.

"Notes, Mr. Curtis?" I jumped and quickly withdrew my hand from the book. The note was clenched in my fist.

"No, ma'am. Just some homework." I was hoping desperately that she would fall for it, knowing full well that she wouldn't. Up in the front, Shannon and her friends were turning pink with laughter. My stomach flipped at the sound of it–mocking, as though they didn't care whether I got in trouble or not. I thought about what Steve and Darry and even Sodapop had been saying, but dismissed the thoughts. They were wrong.

"Mr. Curtis? Are you listening to me, Mr. Curtis? I blinked and snapped out of my thoughts. The Mrs. Smarking didn't look too happy. "I asked if you would like to read your _very important_ note to the rest of the class." I blushed and some guys in the back started laughing.

"Come on, greaser. What's it say?"

"Um...no...I–I'll just put it in my bag." I stuttered.

"That wasn't a request, Mr. Curtis. You have no choice." The guys in the back laughed harder. By now, the whole class was starting to think this was pretty funny, except me, and I think even the teacher was enjoying herself. You can bet that made me feel like Mr. Super-tuff.

"Don't I have the right to remain silent?" I asked smartly, darting a glance at Shannon. Mrs. Smarking turned red.

"You most certainly do not! Do I look stupid to y—" and I fell out of my chair, just like that.

Everyone laughed and someone yelled, "Wait to show her, greaser!" I just stayed where I was, wishing I could be anywhere else, but I wasn't. I was sitting on the floor of the history classroom with an upturned chair to my right and a furious teacher to my left.

"I..." I started, feeling stupid and embarrassed.

"Get out! I don't want to see you again! You filthy little...Get out!" I had never been kicked out of a class before and it scared me a little bit. What would Mom and Dad say?

"Good job, Ponyboy." Shannon said, smiling at me. My ears got real hot, and I knew they had turned pink. I walked numbly out of the room, trying hard not to look around. The door closed loudly behind me and I flinched. The hallway echoed loudly with the sound of my new converse tennis shoes slapping the floor. Mom had originally bought them on sale at this shop for Soda, but they had been too small, so she gave them to me. It was only then, staring at my new shoes, that I realized what had just happened. Mom would be furious. I was usually the good one that didn't get into trouble at school. I was quiet.

"Going somewhere, son?" It was Mr. Syme, my English teacher.

"No, sir." I said. I liked Mr. Syme. He really acted like he cared about you, you know?

"Do you have a pass?"

"No, sir." I didn't even bother trying to lie. You just couldn't fool Mr. Syme.

"Step into my office, Ponyboy." I followed him into the classroom. He settled down behind his desk and motioned for me to take the student desk in front of him. "Now either you're going to tell me why you're out of class without a note, or I'll send you to the Dean and you can tell him." I gulped. There was no way I was going to the Dean's office. I remembered one time when I was in grade school and the Dean had paddled me and this other kid. No way.

I was in second grade–about seven or eight years old–and me and this other kid, Ben, were getting bored, so we started messing around. You know, throwing bits of paper and play-punching each other, well, the teacher (I think her name was Ms. Richards)she sent us down to the Dean's office. The Dean was this really strict guy named Mr. Dalton. The minute we came in, I knew we were in big trouble. Mr Dalton was giant, an angry, red-faced, red-haired giant, and we were his next victims. Me and Ben went into the office on tip-toe, holding our breath. Mr. Dalton read the small slip of paper Ms. Richards had sent us and stood up. He started pacing and lecturing us about being "good boys". "...and it's the good little boys that grow up to be successful, isn't it? Not a single little boy who fights and plays around in school will ever make it out in the world. Those tough little kids who get in trouble all the time? They grow up to be bums–nothing..." I remember thinking how wrong he was. Every one knew that you had to be tough to be successful in life. When you're a greaser, survival was success. Those "good" little boys who never fought or stole, they'd probably never make it. I was only seven, but I knew the score. Mr. Dalton told us each to bend over, fingers to our toes. I didn't really understand what was happening, but afer hearing horror stories from Steve and Sodapop and Two-bit, I think I could've guessed. I decided I didn't like it at all when that paddle hit my bottom. I gasped in surprise and pain. If you've never been hit with a paddle, let me tell you, it hurts. They usually used them at schools because your bottom only stayed red for a little while and then there was no mark. Mr. Dalton went on lecturing. He finally dismissed us, after some good whacks with that paddle and a lecture on behavior. Ben and I hobbled out of the office, clutching our backsides as though they would fall off if we let go. By then, school was over.

I took a breath and explained everything that had happened during history. "You, um, won't tell me parents, will you?" I asked, hoping he'd say no.

"I won't tell them, Ponyboy. Just as long as I never hear anything like this again." I started to talk, but Mr. Syme cut me off. "It doesn't matter whether it was your fault or not, I just want your word that you'll never be kicked out of another class ever again." I nodded.

"I won't." Mr. Syme smiled and stood up.

"In that case, you can go. The lunch bell should be ringing any time now."

The rest of the day passed without much event and Johnny and I started to walk home. We didn't really talk much, but Johnny kept looking at me kind of funny. "Look, if you want to say something, just do it." I snapped, getting annoyed. I was instantly sorry. The look on Johnny's face was so pathetic. "Aw, Johnny I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay, man. I understand." He didn't say anything else. I stopped in front of my house and Johnny kept going, waving over his shoulder.

"Hey, Pony!" Soda ran outside, knocking me over. "Guess what?" He asked excitedly. I could tell by the way his eyes were sparkling that it was something important. "Dad got a promotion! Him and Mom are going out to dinner to celebrate on Saturday! Isn't it great?"

"It'll be even better if you get off me, Sodapop." I panted, trying to catch my breath. Soda just kept on grinning like a crazy man and rolled off me. "Everybody's inside and Steve and Two-bit are over. Dally came, too...where's Johnny?" He added as an after-thought.

"He went home." I said as I straightened up, brushing dirt and grass off of my clothes. Soda looked slightly put out, but he brightened up real quick.

"Mom's making a chocolate cake–two of them, actually–and Dad brought chicken and Darry and him and Mom are gonna make a big dinner and Two-Bit, well, he just watches TV. Me and Steve're gonna get ripped!" Still laughing, we walked into the house.

"Pony's home!" Soda yelled and slammed the door behind us.

"Hey, Ponyboy." Darry said. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Dad, refinancing everything. Darry's real smart.

"Hey..." Two-Bit muttered, eyes glued to the television. Steve didn't say anything.

The next few hours were the best. Mom baked a really great chocolate cake, (Everybody in my family loves chocolate, and my mom's cakes are the best on the east side–probably the best in the whole city.) Dad and Darry joked around a lot and broke a lamp, and true to his words, Soda and Steve got drunk as heck and stared singing some song they had learned. (Probably in a bar, which they weren't allowed to go to.) Two-Bit joined them a little later and had us all in stitches with his impressions. Two-Bit's real good at impressions. He can sound like anything from a snarling Soc even to the math teacher. He does her really good. Mom made me go to bed at about one thirty in the morning. I fell asleep to the sound of laughter and Steve and Sodapop's drunken tune.

**Hey guys, I'm sorry it's taking s long to get to the party, but I've been cut down on my computer time, so I can only write small bits at a time. By the way, I have a new story on under the same pen name. It's called "The Wrong Side", in case anybody wanted to check it out. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	7. Chapter Seven

1**Disclaimer**: **The only thing I own in this story is the plot and Shannon, but I would gladly trade them for Sodapop or Ponyboy or Two-Bit any day. **

**Thanks again to everybody who reviewed. Sorry for the delay in updates. **

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I woke up on Saturday with a terrific headache. The racket Sodapop was making wasn't helping. No offense to Soda, but he just can't sing, especially not in the shower where it echoes. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom to take some Tylenol. Soda's off-key voice was echoing through the whole house, making my head throb even more. "...GLORIA! GLORIA!..." He loves that song. I popped a few pills into my mouth, about four if you want to be exact, and put the bottle away. "...Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!...She comes around here just about midnight, ha!..."

"Aw, put a sock in it, Soda." I called through the curtain. Soda just laughed.

"...She make me feel so good, Lord!..." I left the bathroom. Gosh, if the guy who wrote that song ever heard Soda singing it, he would've had a heart attack. I walked into the kitchen where Mom was making pancakes for breakfast.

"Mornin', Ponyboy." She smiled and poured the batter into the frying pan. "You sleep well?"

"Good enough." I mumbled and sat down.

Soda's voice floated into the kitchen, "...G-L-O-R-I-A GLORIA!..." Mom chuckled.

"Even when he was little...couldn't sing a single note, but boy did he try! I swear, he was the most tone-deaf child you ever met–or heard, but he loved to sing..." She went on, talking mainly to herself about Soda and me and Darry when we were little. I just sat and listened. I love stories about when we were little, or when Mom and Dad were little. Those were the good old days. "Ponyboy, do you know what time that party ends?" Mom asked. I chewed on the edge of my fingernail.

"I was thinking I'd just call Darry when the party was over. I'm sure they have a phone." Mom sighed and flipped the pancake onto a plate. Chocolate chip–my favorite.

"Alright, but if you can't get to Darry, you give your father and me a call, you hear? Or you can call Two-Bit or Steve, but I don't want you walking alone from the West side."

"Don't worry, the kid'll be careful. Won't you Ponyboy?" Soda said, walking in with a towel around his waist. He rumpled my hair and picked up my half-eaten pancake. "Thanks."

"Sodapop, give your brother his breakfast back, I'll make you your own." Soda grinned.

"Hey, y'all." Darry walked in, scratching his head and yawning. I thought it was unusual for Darry to be up late, usually he's up real early. He picked up a plate and sat down. Turning to Sodapop, Darry said, "You have got to close the bathroom door when you take a shower. You just ain't that good, little buddy." He ducked Soda's swing and everybody laughed.

"Hey, where's Dad?" Soda asked. We turned to Mom.

"Yeah, where is he?"

"He went to the store."

"Oh."

"Okay."

Dad came in about half an hour later with two big grocery bags in his arms. "Darry, can you go out to the car and get the rest? Soda, you help him." Darry nodded and he and Soda went outside.

"What can I do?" I asked. I didn't want to be the only one not helping.

"You can help me put all this away."

"Yes, sir."

"Hey, Dad! One of the bags broke!" I heard Sodapop call from outside, and I thought he's probably the one that broke it.

"Howdy!" Two-Bit called, slamming the front door.

"Hey, Two-Bit." I called from where I was putting cans away.

"They got you workin' huh, kid?" He asked, hopping onto one of the counters. Johnny followed him in.

"Hey, Johnny," I said and turned back to Two-Bit. "You could help, you know. You eat all this stuff, too."

Two-Bit grinned like a chessy cat and hopped of the counter. "Shoot, kid. I can't do that. That'd defeat the whole purpose of eatin' other people's food."

"Whatever." Johnny helped me and Two-Bit went into the living room to watch Mickey Mouse on the television. Soda came in with Steve a minute later and they started to empty the broken bag. "Gosh, Soda. How'd you break the bag?" Soda shrugged.

Steve glared at me and snapped, "He didn't break nothing. It was real heavy!" So much for forgive and forget. But, then, Steve's never really liked me, and i don't really like him, so I guess we're even.

"It's okay, man. He just asked a question." Soda tried to calm him down.

"Yeah, well he doesn't have to be so damn nosy."

"I ain't nosy!"

"You shut up, kid!"

"Shut up yourself!" Steve raised a fist, but Soda jumped between us–just in time.

"Cool it guys, okay? Y'all both need to shut up." That stopped us, but Steve was still glaring at me. I glared right back. Johnny was just standing against the counter, watching us with wide eyes.

"Yeah, sorry Soda." I grumbled. "Come on, Johnny. We don't need to hang around that trash." I looked right at Steve as I said that.

"I said, that's enough!" Soda grabbed my shoulder, not roughly. It was just enough to get my attention.

"Tell him that." I went to watch TV with Two-Bit. He was cracking up over some little gag.

Two-Bit left after a little while to go hunt some action–girls, beer, anything that interested him at the time, and Dallas Winston dropped by. "Anybody seen Shephard lately?" We all just shook our heads. Sometimes I wondered how Dally and Tim Shephard could be friends. They were always doing stuff like stealing from each other and slashing each other's tires. I just didn't get it.

"Dallas Winston, you better not get yourself into anymore trouble. You only just got hauled in a month ago for fighting in that gas station." My mom came in with her hands on her hips. "You hear me, boy?"

"Tim and I just got a little business to talk through, Mrs. Curtis." Dally ran his hand through his white-blonde hair. He respected my mom, which was really something, cause Dallas Winston didn't respect anybody.

"I'd like to believe it, but that's what you said the last time. And the time before that. You just have a knack for getting in trouble, young man." Dally grinned in spite of himself and ran his fingers through his hair again. My mom could make anybody smile if she tried. She was golden, my mom was–pure gold.

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**Sorry again, but this chapter's kinda short. The next one will be soon. I hope. It will be the entire party, so it'll be pretty long. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	8. Chapter Eight

1**Disclaimer: I still own practically nothing.**

**Here it is! The party...Thanks to BlacklightingDX for reviewing.**

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"Hey, Pony? You ready to go?" Darry was standing in the doorframe of my bedroom, car keys in hand. I put down Romeo and Juliet. At this rate, I'd probably never finish it on time.

"Yeah, sure."

"Get a sweatshirt. It's kind of chilly out." I pulled on my only sweatshirt–a grey one from track–and followed Darry out the door. Mom and Dad were in the living room, getting ready for their dinner.

"Hey, where'd Soda go?"

"He went to the movies with Steve and Johnny." Darry answered me, opening the front door.

"Have good time, Pony!" My mom waved at me and went on tying my dad's tie.

"Have fun, son." I looked back and for a fleeting moment, I felt like I'd never see them again. It was the oddest thing, cause they were standing right in front of me.

"Come on, Ponyboy!" Darry called from the car. I took another step, then ran back and flung my arms around my mother. She stepped back, taken by surprise, and then hugged me back.

"I love you, Mom." I whispered. Then I hugged my dad and said pretty much the same thing. They both looked at me kind of funny, but at least I felt a little better. Just a little, though. Darry called for me again and said he'd leave if I didn't come soon. I just shook my head. He wouldn't. "Alright, alright! I'm coming! Hold your horses, Dar!" The car door clicked shut and we drove off. I couldn't help but take another look back at the house.

"You call me by eleven, you hear? Mom doesn't want you staying out any later." Darry's voice sounded hard, loud. It wasn't like him to talk to me like that. I wondered what had gotten to him. Maybe it was the same thing I felt. "Ponyboy?"

"Huh?" My head snapped up. I hadn't realized Darry was still talking.

"You okay, Pony?" Darry's eyes seemed to be boring through mine, like he was trying to read my mind or something.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I said, not very convincingly. Darry looked at me for another couple seconds and turned away.

"I'll be home all night, if you need me." It was just a simple sentence, but I knew what he meant. And he knew what I meant when I said I was okay. Brothers can be like that sometimes. We stayed silent for the rest of the trip, except when Darry asked for directions once. We finally pulled up in front of a big house with lots of cars parked in front of it–Mustangs and Corvairs, real big-time Soc kinda cars. I was starting to feel kind of ashamed of our Ford. Darry put his hand on my shoulder and led me to the front door. "Have fun, kid." He rang the bell and some guy answered. "Call me if you need me." He said, so only I could hear, and he walked away.

The minute I walked through the door, I wished I could turn right back, but Darry had already driven off. Everybody in there was dressed in real high-class clothes–Madras and khaki pants and wine colored sweaters. I looked down at my best checkered t-shirt (well, actually it was Soda's best) and the pants i usually wore to church when Mom took us, then my beat up old tennis shoes. Yeah, I felt _real _tuff. Just then, Shannon walked up to me, hanging on some guy's arm. A few other guys were walking behind them. "Hi, Ponyboy. Glad to see you made it okay." She giggled and whispered something behind her hand to the guy. He smirked. I was liking this less and less and starting to wish one of the guys could've been there. "This is Derek," she pointed to the guy, "and that's David, Randy, my brother–Bob..." She went on to name all the guys standing there, still smiling as though her face was stuck that way. The guy named Derek unlinked himself from her and took a step toward me.

Pulling out a silver bottle, he said, "Hey, kid? You want something to drink?" I shook my head.

"Nah, I'm okay." He moved toward me some more. I held my ground, not wanting to show fear.

"Come on, I insist." The other guys were laughing as if this was all just some big joke that I wasn't in on.

"I'm fine–really."

"I wasn't asking, punk." His voice was deathly low. I had backed into the wall and was staring at him with wide eyes. "Take some."

"I'm fine." I was panicking now. Sweat was running down my back like it does when I get really nervous. The other guys were all surrounding me now, but that's about all they did. The guy–Derek–turned to smile at the others. I took my chance and broke through them. Derek had me down in a second. He was holding the silver bottle over my head, grinning like crazy. One of the other guys–I think his name was David–forced my mouth open. I coughed and spluttered as they poured some kind of expensive liquor down my throat. It burned my mouth, and I tried to scream but ended up choking instead. The Socs were laughing like maniacs now and the world started to swim, though I vaguely remember more people coming over to watch and Shannon–Shannon's face laughing just as hard as the rest of them. That was when it really hit me–Shannon Sheldon was a Soc.

Derek was straddling me, his knees pushed hard into my elbows and his hands still holding the bottle. I fought as best I could, but they had me pinned pretty good. The bottle finally seemed to have emptied and he threw it aside. "We're gonna teach ya a little lesson, kid." He spit at me and I nearly vomited. "You–he slugged me–keep on–and again–your own–and again–side of–and again–town, with all the rest of the trash!" I was gasping for air with every punch. I didn't even have the breath to cuss at them, although I desperately wanted to. "You hear, greaser?" He hit me real hard in the head and the world was spinning. "I asked you a question!"

There were shouts of, "Teach the punk a lesson!" and, "Give it to him!".

"Here, give 'im this." The guy named Bob handed something to him. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that whatever it was, I didn't want it. I struggled more and nearly broke free, but some Soc-guy kicked me right in the head and told me to hold still. Yeah, right. The next thing I knew, my mouth was being forced open once more, only this time it wasn't liquor they were shoving down my throat. It was a cigarette, but it wasn't. It was like no cigarette I had ever had before. The smoke was acrid and yellow. It tasted like grass, but much much worse. Everybody was cracking up as though this was the funniest thing they had ever seen. Personally, I didn't find it very amusing.

"Take the trash out!" Somebody yelled. I felt somebody lift me roughly from the ground. Everything was moving too fast; it was all too loud. Then, I felt myself falling and landed on the ground. There was a loud, sickening snap and I passed out. When I finally came to, I could see that I was lying outside on the grass. I had a killer headache and my arm was throbbing. There was a large red stain leaking out onto the sidewalk. It took me a minute to realize that it was blood and another to realize that the blood was coming from me. I took a look at the watch Dad had given me for Christmas last year and groaned. It was 12:35. I was supposed to call at eleven!

A car pulled up by the sidewalk and a voice called, "Ponyboy!" The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. "Ponyboy, what happened? Oh god, Pony..." A blurry figure was kneeling over me.

I mumbled, "Hey, Two-Bit..." and fell back into unconsciousness.

"Ponyboy? Can you hear me? Pony?" I blinked and raised my head a little. It felt like there was nothing up there, like my head was filled with helium–like a balloon. Two-Bit was staring at me from where I was laying, spread out, across the back seat of his car.

I managed to give a weak, "Yeah..." and Two-Bit breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank god. You had me scared to death, kid. Finding you on that lawn–by the side of the road–bleeding like you was–I thought for sure–you okay?" I didn't answer. Instead, I was sick all over his seat, then I was out again. The car pulled to a stop and Two-Bit lifted me out. I don't think I've ever seen him so worried like he was. He kicked open our front door and laid me down on the couch. That's the last I remembered of that night.


	9. Chapter Nine

1**Disclaimer: I own nothing that S.E. Hinton owns.**

**Here's the next chapter! Thanks to those people who reviewed.**

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"Ponyboy?" I opened my eyes slowly. I was lying in my bed, in my bedroom, and Darry was sitting right in front of me. He looked tired. "Pony?" I moaned in response. Darry brushed my hair out of my eyes. "You okay?" I wasn't. My head felt like it was about to explode and my arm was throbbing and I felt like I was going to be sick. Darry seemed to realize this because he held up a trash can and tilted my head forward a bit. I vomited and he wiped my mouth with a cloth. Boy, was this ever embarrassing. "Here, you need to drink this." He held a glass of water up to my face and gently trickled the cool liquid into my mouth. It made me want to be sick again. I looked down and saw for the first time that my arm was in a cast.

"He's awake!" Sodapop came running into my bedroom, looking just as tired as Darry. I was beginning to wonder. Were they all tired because of me? "Hey, Pony! Glory, we was worried 'bout you!"

I coughed and then said, "You were?"

Soda and Darry looked at me incredulously. "Of course! Two-Bit brought you in and laid you on the sofa and you were bleeding and looked–bad." Darry was making signs for Soda to stop talking behind my back, like he thought I couldn't see, but good ol' Soda wasn't paying any attention and he just went on anyway. "...and we called Mom and Dad and they were on their way and...and..." He stopped and cleared his throat, eyes suddenly tearing up.

"Sodapop!" Darry said, and then more softly, "Pepsi-Cola, come here..." but Soda pulled away.

"Don't you call me that! That was Dad's name for me and you can't use it!" He sounded like a two year old. I was really confused by now. This wasn't normal Sodapop behavior. He never snapped at Darry like that. They got along real good. I figured something bad must've happened, but what? That was when that feeling, the one I had on the night of the party, came back. (Don't think of the party, Ponyboy. Don't think of how stupid you were to believe Shannon could actually be inviting you for something more than a prank. Don't think of those guys. Don't think of how they beat you up and gave you that stuff. What was that stuff, anyway? It doesn't matter now, just don't think. Don't think.)

I looked around, realizing for the first time that morning that my mother wasn't there. She was always there for me if I got hurt or sick, stroking my hair, talking to me. Where was she now? And my dad? "Guys," I said quietly. They didn't hear me. "Guys!" Soda and Darry turned around, their expressions softening. "Where's Mom and Dad?" I had no idea what those four simple words could do to the atmosphere of a room.

"Pony..." Darry sat down next to me again. He had this look in his eyes that I've never seen before. It was kind of a hopeless look, like a little boy that's just found out the hand he was holding to at the bank was not his mother's, scared even.

"Ponyboy, they...uh..." Soda settled down next to me, looking as though he was about to cry again.

"Here, doc says you have to drink this." He handed me another glass of water. "To wash out what's in your system." I pushed the glass away impatiently.

"Where'd they go?" I was getting scared by now. My brothers told me the truth. They didn't try to change the subject with water and doctor's orders. What had happened that it was so different this time.

"Hey y'al–the kid's up!" Two-Bit practically bounced into the room. "You had me scared to death, kid. I thought you was dying!"

"Two-Bit!" Darry warned him in a low voice. Two-Bit cocked and eyebrow, but he didn't say anything else. Johnny and Steve came in a minute later.

"Hey, Ponyboy." Johnny looked worried. "You okay now?" I just shrugged. I would be okay, if they would just tell me where my parents went.

"Look, kid..." Steve started, stepping forward. I remembered our fight and the broken glass. Steve didn't like me. He thought I was just some dumb tag-along kid. He didn't care. He was probably glad I got hurt. "...I'm sorry, okay? I just didn't want you to get hurt from that Soc-broad, cause you're Soda's little brother. Much as you get annoying sometimes and all. But I was right, wasn't I?"

"Thanks." I said stiffly. I guess that was the best apology I'd get. Soda looked at me. "All right, I"m sorry too. Hey, where's Dally?"

"Good ol' Dal's in the cooler. Tried to rob a drug store to get you some bandages and aspirin and stuff." Two-Bit said, grinning. That sounded just like Dally.

"I gave him the money for it." Said Soda, shrugging. Two-Bit laughed. "You hungry, Pony?"

I looked up fast. You had better believe I was hungry. I felt like I hadn't eaten in days. "Yeah!"

"I'll go get something." Darry left and came back a minute later with an armful fruit. "Doc says yo have to eat a lot of fruit and drink a lot of water and milk." He explained. Doc nothing, I wanted chocolate cake, but Darry wasn't budging.

"Look, me and Dar'll eat it too, okay?" Soda took and apple and bit into it, smiling at me as juice dribbled down his chin. "How bout you guys?" He glared at them.

"Anything for the kid." Two-Bit said, taking a banana. "Come on, Johnnycake." Johnny took another apple.

"Steve?" Soda looked over at his best friend with a face full of apple. Steve groaned but Soda glared at him and he said, "Okay." He didn't have to sound so _happy_.

Darry looked at me and handed me the last apple. I got the message. "Fine." The room was filled with the sounds of crunching and chewing and Two-Bit's occasional sigh of happiness. Gee, he really was laying it on thick and all for me. I finished my apple then looked back to Darry. "You never answered my question."

"Hmmm, what question?" He asked innocently between mouthfuls of banana. So, he was playing dumb.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" Everybody stopped and looked at me. "Come on, guys. I'm not playing around. Where are they?" I was getting really frustrated.

"Ponyboy, on the night you got..." Darry began.

"You were really hurt..." Said Soda.

"We called your parents..." Two-Bit said.

"They were on their way and..."

"They...uh...a train..." I wasn't liking this all of a sudden and I wished they'd stop. I didn't want to hear it anymore.

"They drove over the train tracks, they didn't hear the train coming..."

"It hit them."

"I'm sorry, Pony." Soda was crying again and Steve led him out of the room.

"Sorry, kid. We're all here for you."

"I'm sorry, Ponyboy." Johnny looked at me. "Really."

I turned away as tears started forming in my eyes. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Oh god, please don't make this be true. "No."

"Ponyboy..." Darry reached out his hand, but I hit it away.

"No, it's not true! You're lying to me! You're all lying. You're lying..." I broke down crying and stuffed my face into the pillow. I was disgusted with myself for crying in front of the gang, but I didn't stop. It felt good to cry, like somehow it made everything less real, like a dream.

"Ponyboy, we're not lying to you." Two-Bit's voice sounded from above me. I ignored them. I didn't want to listen. Listening to that, it would make it real.

"They didn't suffer." Darry said quietly, as though that helped. "Have some water." Was that all Darry cared about? The water? Before I knew what I was doing, I had swung around and hit Darry with a hard blow to the jaw. He didn't even blink. I got up, not really sure of what I was doing. He did, too. "You have to understand..." I didn't let him finish. Instead, I hit him again. "Pony, you gotta listen to me."

"I don't have to listen to anybody!" He came toward me, but I shoved him off. "Just go away! Leave me alone...all of you...go away..." This time, I let Darry pull me toward him. He hugged me tightly and I buried my face in his shirt. My arm hurt.

"Everything's gonna be okay..." He whispered. Soda came in with Steve and started crying all over again. "Come here, little buddy." Darry pulled him in and we all stood there, hugging with me and Soda crying. I didn't even notice the other guys leave. "We're gonna be okay." Darry said. "We'll be okay." And I knew he was right. Darry could fix anything, just like my dad. We'd be okay.

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**Here's the next chapter. I hope y'all like it. That's the end, guys. I hope y'all liked the story. Maybe one day I'll write an Outsiders sequel. Lol. PLEASE REVIEW!**


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